Read Online A Murder in Thebes (Alexander the Great 2) by Paul Doherty - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Paul Doherty
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wineskin, their war belts on the ground beside them. A short distance away a woman crouched,
her arms around two children who were white-faced and had black rings around their eyes; they gazed in terror at the soldiers.
“What’s this?” Alexander asked.
Miriam’s heart sank at the fear in the woman’s face, at the way the children clung to her—probably some Theban mother who
had hidden in the ruins with her children only to be discovered by the soldiers. But why hadn’t she been dragged off to the
slave pens? Despite her terror, the woman now stood, one hand on the shoulder of each child. She would have been beautiful,
but there was a bruise high on her cheek, and her face was streaked with dirt and ash; her gown and tunic were soiled and
one sandal was missing.
“She’s guilty of murder,” Niarchos the Cretan declared. He gestured across the ruins with his hands. “Some of our lads found
her in the cellar of a house.”
“And?” Alexander asked.
Niarchos put his hands on his hips and clicked his tongue. “Well, the officer who found her was a Boeatian; he roughed her
up a bit.”
“You mean, he raped her?” Miriam asked. “In front of her children?”
Niarchos’s monkeylike face creased into a smile. “You always did have a tart tongue, Miriam; even in the groves of Midas we
felt the lash.”
“With people like you?” Miriam retorted, “no wonder!”
Niarchos just pulled at his oil-drenched hair. Alexander was staring at the woman.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“Well, the Boeatian, after he had his pleasure, wanted to know where her treasure was hidden. She said it was down a well
in the garden at the back of the house.”
The woman was now blinking, her lips moving wordlessly.
“She took him there,” Niarchos continued. “Er, he had been drinking.”
“And she pushed him down, didn’t she?” Alexander finished the story.
“Snapped the bastard’s neck,” Niarchos declared. “The rest of the squadron would have killed her on the spot.” He pointed
to Perdiccas. “But he heard the clamor.” He moved from foot to foot. “What shall we do, my lord king?” he asked sardonically,
“a thousand lashes and into the slave pen, or shall we crucify the bitch as a warning to others?”
Alexander put his hand on Niarchos’s shoulder, his fingers near his neck, and he squeezed. Niarchos winced with pain.
“By all that’s holy! . . .” Alexander used his sacred oath. “She’s a mother Niarchos. The blood lust is over.”
One of the children began to cry. Miriam glanced away. There was a cruel streak in Alexander, and if it surfaced; the woman
and both her children would die.
“For pity’s sake, she killed one of my officers!” Niarchos shouted.
The woman clutched the children closer. “He was drunk,” she declared defiantly. “He was an animal. He deserved to die.” She
gestured at the black sea of ash around them. “You all deserve to die. You are Alexander, lord, king of Macedon. Why not kill
us? The great conqueror, the victor!”
Alexander narrowed his eyes. “You are free to go.”
Niarchos made to object.
“Shut your mouth!” Alexander snapped. “You are free to go! Simeon write out a pass! I’ll seal it myself. Niarchos, that money
pouch! Come on, it’s so heavy you can’t even walk straight!”
The Cretan handed it over. The rest of the officers were now laughing, their mood ever fickle. They knew about Niarchos’s
love of money; he was a brave fighter but he had combed the ruins looking for anything that glittered. Niarchos sullenly handed
it over. Alexander threw it, and the woman deftly caught it.
“My scribe will write out the pass,” Alexander declared. “You will also get new clothes, horses, saddlebags, food, wine, and
a soldier to guide you to wherever you wish to go.” He glanced away. “My blood has cooled. Alexander of Macedon does not make
wanton war on widows and children. And, as for
her arms around two children who were white-faced and had black rings around their eyes; they gazed in terror at the soldiers.
“What’s this?” Alexander asked.
Miriam’s heart sank at the fear in the woman’s face, at the way the children clung to her—probably some Theban mother who
had hidden in the ruins with her children only to be discovered by the soldiers. But why hadn’t she been dragged off to the
slave pens? Despite her terror, the woman now stood, one hand on the shoulder of each child. She would have been beautiful,
but there was a bruise high on her cheek, and her face was streaked with dirt and ash; her gown and tunic were soiled and
one sandal was missing.
“She’s guilty of murder,” Niarchos the Cretan declared. He gestured across the ruins with his hands. “Some of our lads found
her in the cellar of a house.”
“And?” Alexander asked.
Niarchos put his hands on his hips and clicked his tongue. “Well, the officer who found her was a Boeatian; he roughed her
up a bit.”
“You mean, he raped her?” Miriam asked. “In front of her children?”
Niarchos’s monkeylike face creased into a smile. “You always did have a tart tongue, Miriam; even in the groves of Midas we
felt the lash.”
“With people like you?” Miriam retorted, “no wonder!”
Niarchos just pulled at his oil-drenched hair. Alexander was staring at the woman.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“Well, the Boeatian, after he had his pleasure, wanted to know where her treasure was hidden. She said it was down a well
in the garden at the back of the house.”
The woman was now blinking, her lips moving wordlessly.
“She took him there,” Niarchos continued. “Er, he had been drinking.”
“And she pushed him down, didn’t she?” Alexander finished the story.
“Snapped the bastard’s neck,” Niarchos declared. “The rest of the squadron would have killed her on the spot.” He pointed
to Perdiccas. “But he heard the clamor.” He moved from foot to foot. “What shall we do, my lord king?” he asked sardonically,
“a thousand lashes and into the slave pen, or shall we crucify the bitch as a warning to others?”
Alexander put his hand on Niarchos’s shoulder, his fingers near his neck, and he squeezed. Niarchos winced with pain.
“By all that’s holy! . . .” Alexander used his sacred oath. “She’s a mother Niarchos. The blood lust is over.”
One of the children began to cry. Miriam glanced away. There was a cruel streak in Alexander, and if it surfaced; the woman
and both her children would die.
“For pity’s sake, she killed one of my officers!” Niarchos shouted.
The woman clutched the children closer. “He was drunk,” she declared defiantly. “He was an animal. He deserved to die.” She
gestured at the black sea of ash around them. “You all deserve to die. You are Alexander, lord, king of Macedon. Why not kill
us? The great conqueror, the victor!”
Alexander narrowed his eyes. “You are free to go.”
Niarchos made to object.
“Shut your mouth!” Alexander snapped. “You are free to go! Simeon write out a pass! I’ll seal it myself. Niarchos, that money
pouch! Come on, it’s so heavy you can’t even walk straight!”
The Cretan handed it over. The rest of the officers were now laughing, their mood ever fickle. They knew about Niarchos’s
love of money; he was a brave fighter but he had combed the ruins looking for anything that glittered. Niarchos sullenly handed
it over. Alexander threw it, and the woman deftly caught it.
“My scribe will write out the pass,” Alexander declared. “You will also get new clothes, horses, saddlebags, food, wine, and
a soldier to guide you to wherever you wish to go.” He glanced away. “My blood has cooled. Alexander of Macedon does not make
wanton war on widows and children. And, as for
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